Harry Potter and the Toilet Wars
by Fractured Artifact No. 248
Summary: In the fight against bigotry and prejudice, the front lines pop up in strange places. In the magical world, the places are even stranger still. Hermione Granger fights the pureblood establishment to promote a wonder of Muggle engineering: the toilet.
1. Tensions Rise

0

The United Confederation of People with Too Much Time on Their Hands

Presents:

 **Harry Potter and the Toilet Wars**

We present, for your perusal, a strange occurrence in modern wizarding history, where the concerns of the progressives and the agenda of the purebloods came into conflict in an unusual place. The forces of hate and oppression tried to strike a blow and establish a beachhead in an area of that was of ubiquitous concern to all levels of society and government worldwide. Their success, or failure, could forever change the landscape of civilization. So much was riding on the brave souls that fought against the cruel flush of history.

A few things to keep in mind: 1) Assume, unless otherwise mentioned, either here or in the books, that any muggle technology works in a non-magical fashion. 2) A Vanishing Spell does not destroy matter; any given object is disintegrated into a cloud of atoms. 3) Despite the fact that something does not make sense, certain people will still cling to it with religious zeal and make a huge deal out of it.

We are legally obligated to inform you that we have no creative rights to anything we are writing about.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Tensions Rise**

* * *

We are often familiar with natural disasters once they reach an interesting size. Many of us have looked on in horror and amusement as avalanches have crushed whole forests and rockslides have made short work of a city. But these cataclysmic events are very late in the whole story of the disaster. Before the rockslide leveled a hapless, poorly located city, before it was millions of tons of rocks and dirt shooting down a mountain, before it was a cascade of rubble tumbling down an incline, the whole thing was started, very far up the mountain, by a pebble that, at the wrong time fell on the wrong place and set off a string of events that ended in catastrophe.

Very rarely can we chronicle a story down to Pebble Zero, and in this case, there's some disagreement about who's pebble set the whole thing off. We start by going as close to the beginning as possible: which is during a Sunday afternoon in Hogwarts Library, at a table next to the Horticulture Section, where two chronic underperformers are trying to do their homework at the last minute.

"Hydropathy in Tentacula is caused by…" Ron said to himself, flipping through pages of the book in front of him. "Temperature…humidity…and one other thing…or maybe seven other things." He closed the book, pushed it to the side and reached for another book from the massive stack that had accumulated in the middle of the table.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked as he flipped through his own book. "She went to the bathroom twenty minutes ago."

"It takes as long as it takes," said Ron.

The three of them had developed a routine for school work. Hermione would get her assignments finished early, so early that Ron legitimately suspected she could see the future and finished them before they were assigned, and would help them finish their assignments when they tried to cobble theirs together at the last minute. In exchange for her largesse, Harry and Ron…they hadn't actually worked out a counter-balance, but when the time came, they would owe her bigly.

From down the row of books, they heard the sound of damp, angry footsteps. They looked up from their research to Hermione stalking over to their table, looking like she'd just walked in from the rain. Ron got up and walked over to her. Extracting his wand from his pocket, he started drying.

"What happened?" he asked, trying and failing to dry her hair without making it explosively frizzy.

"Peeves and Moaning Myrtle decided to put aside their differences to combat their mutual enemy," she said, tugging at her now shrunken robes. "People who are dry. I was using the loo down the hall when all the commodes exploded."

"Couldn't work a toilet, Granger?" a cold drawling voice came from behind one of the shelves. The next second, Draco Malfoy appeared around the shelf, followed closely by Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle. Malfoy wore his typical condescending smirk as he looked over the recently dried Hermione.

"Is it just you, Granger, or do all muggles have issues with basic plumbing?" he asked.

"What _are_ you talking about?" asked Hermione, genuinely confused.

This caused Malfoy to come up short. Whatever else he might think about Hermione, he had never had to explain one of his insults to her. It was a strange kind of respect that he withheld from Crabbe and Goyle.

"I mean," he started explaining, "to imply that toilets, sinks, and plumbing in general, is a level of technology beyond what muggles are intellectually capable of using reliably." Then he added, like an afterthought, "And by extension, muggle-borns."

Hermione gave him a flat look and took a deep breath.

"Draco," she started, with the slow intonation of someone trying to explain something complex to a badger, "Plumbing, toilets, sinks, pipes, and the like, are muggle inventions."

"What?" said Draco scowling. "No, they're not. We've got plumbing in Hogwarts Castle, that's over a millennium old."

"Ancient Rome had water pipes two millenniums…millennia?...ago," Hermione said. "And, according to Hogwarts: A History, plumbing was added to the castle in 1740, long after plumbing was widely used in muggle London."

"Can't be!" said Malfoy, scandalized.

"Wait…it can't be," agreed Ron.

Harry and Hermione turned to glare at him. Even if he was right, which he wasn't, you never agreed with Malfoy. Malfoy and his cronies seemed equally surprised by this breach of protocol.

"I mean," Ron started to explain. "If they didn't have bathrooms before…well…what did they do when…you know." He made a vague gesture near his bum.

"Well, they…" Hermione started, and her forehead pinched as she searcher her memories.

"…I don't know," she finally admitted.

A half hour later, their group stood in front of the door to Professor Binns' office. An office thought about so little, they had to ask four other professors, including Dumbledore, before anyone could tell them where his office even was.

Hermione stood in front of the door, working up the courage the knock. She was a bit embarrassed by all of this. She had a close relationship with every teacher she had, excluding him. And she had excluded him intentionally, by reason of finding him boring and creepy. Now, she was here to ask for his help with the strangest question possible.

Pushing down her awkwardness, she knocked.

There was no answer from within, and she knocked again, harder, at which the door swung inward slightly. A puff of stale air exited the room.

"Hello?" Hermione called tentatively, pushing the door open further and stepping inside, the rest following close behind her.

On the far side of the room, light streamed in from a window, illuminating a room that looked like it belonged to a muggle barrister. The room was surrounded by bookshelves, stocked in an orderly fashion. There was a desk with papers arranged on it in neat piles. Two armchairs stood by an unlit fireplace. Hermione hadn't sure what she expected a ghost's office to look like, but this wasn't it. In retrospect, she thought, she should have predicted that the boringness of Professor Binns' would have extended to every area of his life.

"Hello?" a dry voice asked.

Seven heads swiveled around to the fireplace to see the apparition of Professor Binn's get up from one of the armchairs. He surveyed them with a vacant stare. A student hadn't come into his office in living memory, no one had, in fact, save for the occasional house elf who came in to do the dusting.

"Professor Binns," Hermione greeted him, walking over. "Sorry, I did knock. We wanted to ask you."

She broke off when she noticed what was in the armchair he had just got up from. From the other side of the room, what she thought had been a malformed cushion was a desiccated cadaver in a mottled robe.

"Oh, my God!" she started, horrified. "Is that…?"

She was cut off by the feeling of someone behind her grabbing her firmly, but gently on her upper arms.

"Hermione!" Ron hissed sharply. "Don't be rude."

She turned in his grip to stare at him incredulously. To her surprise, his expression was mirrored on the faces of the four Slytherins: the mild condemnation of a faux pas. Harry, no more familiar with ghost etiquette than she was, just shrugged.

"I'm sorry," she said, turning back to Professor Binns, pointedly not looking at what she assumed was his corpse, which he, apparently, had every right to keep in his office. She would later reflect that it made an odd sort of sense. She was allowed to do what she wanted with her body, damn what anyone else thought.

"Professor Binns," she said, trying to recover. "We had a question about the history of Hogwarts."

"Oh?" said Professor Binns, drifting closer.

"Well, we know that Plumbing was installed in Hogwarts in 1740."

"That's right," said Professor Binns. "Up until then, students were responsible for conjuring their own water, or bringing it up from the lake."

"So, the inclusion of muggle technology improved the quality of life at Hogwarts, did it?" asked Hermione smugly and rhetorically.

"Yes, yes, yes," said Malfoy dismissively. "Get on with it, Granger."

"Yes, well," she continued, not sure how she wanted to phrase this. "Before plumbing, how did people…go about…well, doing things we now do in bathrooms?"

"Well, in the pre-plumbing period at Hogwarts," Binns started, sliding into a tone they had all come to associate with his lectures. "Water was brought up from the lake by bucket, by the students who couldn't conjure their own water, anyway. They used the passage the first years use to enter the castle by boat."

"Oh," said Ron. "So that's why that's there."

"Quite," said Binns. "Standing tubs were used for bathing, filled either by magic or multiple bucket trips, and heated with any number of charms. For this reason, regular bathing was infrequent, and less so in winter months."

"By the same dint, handwashing and oral hygiene were similarly circumspect."

He stopped there, apparently finished.

"And?" asked Pansy Parkinson.

He swivled his owlish gaze at her.

"And what?" he asked.

"What about the…you know…other bathroom things?" she tried to clarify.

"Oh, uhm," he said, trying to remember what people actually did in the bathroom. It had been a while for him. "Fingernails were trimmed consistent with the manner they are in the modern day…"

"What did people do when they needed to shit?" asked Malfoy, annoyed.

"Oh yes," said Professor Binns brightly. "Before the advent of the commode, there was no concept of a designated place to relieve one's self. A person wishing to defecate needed only find a place in the castle with a modicum of privacy and vanish the evidence when they were done."

He finished to a room of flabbergasted students. Crabbe and Goyle looked flabbergasted a few seconds after the others, but they got there all the same.

"Um, thank you, sir," said Hermione, and, as if by some invisible signal, they all turned around simultaneously and filed out of the room.

Ron was the last one to leave the room, shutting the door behind them.

"Blimey," said Ron as the lock clicked shut. "The past was horrible."

"Yes," Hermione agreed. "Fortunately, the combined ingenuity of generations of muggles and wizards have made our present more comfortable."

"Yeah," said Ron, as they all started walking down the corridor. "You have to admit, it was convenient though."

"What part?" asked Hermione sarcastically. "Slugging your water up from the lake in buckets skipping your morning shower for a few months?"

"I mean being able to use the bathroom wherever you want," Ron clarified.

"Ron!" Hermione chastised.

"Sure, it's gross," said Ron. "But think of it: No more lines at the bog. You wouldn't have to go anywhere near Moaning Myrtle."

"Ugh, Ron," she said exasperated.

They reached a fork in the corridor where the Slytherins turned left to head down to the dungeons and Ron, Harry, and Hermione turned right to go back to the Library. Just before they parted ways, Hermione got a look at Malfoy and noted he had an oddly pensive reflection, as if deep in thought. As she walked away from him, she felt an odd sensation dancing along her spine; a feeling of dread, seemingly out of nowhere. She couldn't tell you why at the time, and even later on she would doubt it was any kind of premonition. But she often thought of that time in the corridor, that feeling she got, and wished she had killed Malfoy then and there.

But he lived, the pebble started falling, and things got out of hand after that.


	2. Opening Salvo

**Chapter 2: Opening Salvo**

* * *

The weeks that followed the visit to Professor Binns' office were unremarkable, as things often are before a massive earthquake. Everyone went about their daily business. Classes were attended. Homework was done. Quidditch was played, with varying degrees of fatality. Unseen, just below the surface of the everyday goings on at Hogwarts, something festered and grew. Then, one day, inescapably, it surfaced.

Professor McGonagall was walking down the corridor away from her classroom. She had just finished with her last class of morning and was hurrying to the Teacher's Room to pour coffee into herself before afternoon classes started.

The corridor curved ahead of her and as she approached it, she heard someone incant " _Evanesco_." The next second, a boy, Ravenclaw, if the tie was any indication, came around the corner, smoothing down his robes.

"Hello, Professor," he said brightly.

"Good morning," she said, blanking on his name. She'd remember it after she got caffeine, and feel bad about forgetting. As it was, she hurried past him. Even in her haste, in her caffeine depleted brain, a thought still nagged at her. And she remembered his name.

"Stebbins," she called, turning to the boy.

"Yes, Professor?" he answered, turning around.

"What did you just Vanish?"

"Poop," he answered.

"I see," she said, and they both turned back around and continued on their way.

Half an hour later, McGongall was halfway through her first bucket of coffee when she jumped out of her chair.

"WHAT?!" she yelled.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"Well, she didn't exactly catch him," confessed Ron. They were sitting at the Gryffindor table for breakfast the following Saturday, and Ron was filling them in on the gossip.

"She heard him vanish something, he admitted it when asked, and then she flipped out half an hour later," Ron summaraized.

"Half an hour?" asked Harry.

"After she had her coffee," said Ron, to which Harry gave a nod of understanding.

"Well, what did she do?" asked Hermione. "He must have gotten detention for that."

"Um, no." said Ron. "As it happens, it's not against the rules."

"How is that not against the rules?" asked Hermione incredulously, gradually rising in pitch.

"I guess it's one of those things they never thought would come up," said Harry. "Like that time Fred and George tried to distil Uranium."

"And he did clean up when he was done," offered Ron.

"Well, bravo for him," Hermione replied sarcastically, then she thought about if for a moment. "Actually, yes, I do prefer that he did that. Still what, possessed him to …relieve himself in the first place?"

"Don't we all?"

"In the cooridor!"

"Oh, yeah," said Ron. "It's actually a new thing that's going around," he began to explain as Hermione's eyes grew in size. "When McGonagall had him explain, he said everyone was doing it, so she did some investigating. It started with the Slytherins. They've decided that toilets are a muggle thing and they want to do things the wizard way."

Hermione's mouth dropped open at this.

"After it caught on with them, the Hufflepuffs started doing it," Ron continued. "They don't care about the muggle thing, they just thought it was easier. It turned out Professor Sprout had been doing it for years."

"No!" said Harry. Hermione was still dumb struck.

"Yeah," said Ron. "It was easier than running up to the castle from the greenhouses every time."

"She actually does vanish it though?" asked Harry. "She doesn't just…bung it onto the compost pile…where we get the fertilizer."

Hermione's mouth had dropped so far, it was unlikely it would ever shut again.

"It hasn't really caught on in Ravenclaw or Gryffindor yet," Ron artfully changed the subject. "Won't if McGonagall has anything to say about it."

"I should think not!" said Hermione. "Damn that Malfoy. Of course, he would find a way to make being anti-muggle even worse. At least McGonagall will put a stop to it."

"She can't," said Ron. "Only Dumbledore can make new school rules."

"Fine!" Hermione snapped. " _He_ will put a stop to it."

"What do you mean I can't?" asked Dumbledore.

It was the weekly staff meeting and all the Professors were gathered around a large table in Dumbledore's office. The table was bedecked with a selection of finger-food to keep everyone alert and happy while they went through the weeks business. The spread was usually well received, but this week, Item 1 on the schedule had put everyone off the cress sandwiches.

Professor McGonagall had just finished filling the staff in on the results of her investigation. She had spent the past few days investigating the new defecation fad and wrote out her finding in a multipage report that repeatedly emphasized that _this was Draco Malfoy's fault_. Snape had spent the duration of her presentation gradually sliding lower and lower in his seat.

Dumbledore had taken pity on him, and everyone else, to interrupt her half way through, promising that he would write an extensive, very specifically worded school rule to guarantee all future bowel movements occurred exclusively where they could fall directly into the sewage system.

Unfortunately, Professor Binns interrupted his interruption.

"It's in the charter maintained by the Board of Governors," Professor Binns explained. "It is beyond the power of the Head Master to legislate the students bowel movements."

The staff all stared at, or through, him at this. School rules were school rules, to be edited by the headmaster to suit the current needs of the students and faculty, but the Charter of the Board of Governors was the law of Hogwarts, to be only amended by a consensus of the governors and established the boundaries that Hogwarts staff were absolutely obliged to work within.

"How is _that_ in the school charter?" asked McGonagall, incredulously.

"It dates back to 1185, about 600 years prior to the advent of plumbing," Binns began. The staff who, with the exception of Professor Vector, had all been in his class at some point, immediately started to nod off at the sound of an incoming lecture.

"In the seventh year of the tenure of then Headmaster Barsidious Borage, he mandated designated pooping zones within Hogwarts in the interests of improving sanitation. This was at a period in history when the attitude towards defecating was shifting from an accepted bodily function, to an act that should be kept private. This change in attitude was due to the increased understanding of how bodily fluids related to the transmission of disease."

Some of the staff joined Snape in sliding farther down into their chairs. Professor Trelawney started absently twirling her hair.

"The rooms he selected within the castle were few, far between, and cloistered. The students, who were used to more ease and convenience now had to travel a long distance within the castle to one of the designated rooms, where they were required to wait in a line. The rooms themselves had issues with ventilation. The accumulating fumes caused nausea in some cases and unconsciousness in others. Moreover, forcing everyone to relieve themselves in the same confined space caused an outbreak of what we today recognize as Cholera."

At this point, even McGonagall had given up listening and was playing tic-tac-toe with Professor Flitwick. Their version was more interesting, since the Xs and Os could wrestle each other.

"The Head Girl of the time, Lavernia Larkin, led a student revolt. Professors were forced by students into the sluice rooms they had set up and sealed within, some of them, like Headmaster Borage, were never seen again."

Dumbledore shifted uncomfortably at this.

"It was in response to this, the Borage Rebellion, that the Board of Governors for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was formed; to prevent any future abuse of power by headmasters that would lead to another unfortunate incident. In the assembly of the charter, along with broad powers to decide appointments and policy, the right of students to relieve themselves wherever they wished was included as law."

Instinctually sensing that the lecture was over, the staff perked back up.

"So, we'd have to appeal directly to the Board of Governors?" Snape summarized. "And why have we never heard about this before?"

"What do you mean?" asked Binns, turning to Snape. "I lecture on the Borage Rebellion to every first-year class."

Everyone vaguely remembered being asleep in that class and just nodded along.

"That's all very well and good," said McGonagall, bitter about this new development and losing at tic-tac-toe. "But here we are, 100 years past since we've had bathrooms installed, 50 years past since we've started buying toilet paper; why hasn't that part of the charter been amended?"

"It is sometimes the case that the law needs to catch up with the technology," said Dumbledore. "This is a delay, but a delay only. I shall immediately write the school governors and request that they hold an emergency meeting to deliver a resolution to this…commode crisis. In the meantime, please practice tolerance and…" he looked pointedly at Professor Sprout. "set a good example."

"What do you mean he can't?" Hermione asked.

A short while after the staff meeting, word of the Headmaster's limitations had trickled into the Hogwarts grapevine. Ron was filling Hermione in while he was playing Harry at Wizard Chess in front of the common room fire. Hermione, who had been contentedly reading in the nearby armchair, put the book down and moved her chair over to them.

"It's in the Charter of the Board of Governors," supplied Ron. "Article 1, apparently. The very reason the Board of Governors was founded."

"Why are we just now learning this?" asked Hermione.

In response to this, Harry and Ron both got very sly looks on their faces and turned to look at Hermione.

"Yes, Hermione. How didn't we know that?" asked Ron.

"According to Professor Bins, he gives a lecture on it in first year, every year," supplied Harry. "How do you not remember?"

Hermione's scowl was replaced by a sheepish expression.

"You've slept through some of his classes, haven't you?" Ron accused with a huge grin.

"I read the textbook!" Hermione snapped.

"You do sleep through his lectures!" said Ron triumphantly. "You're as human as the rest of us."

"It's not in Hogwarts, a History," Hermione continued, trying to change the subject. "Why would they leave something out that big?"

"Hogwarts is 1000 years old," said Harry with a shrug. "Look at everything that's happened the few years we've been here: infiltration by Voldemort, Basilisk Attack, you slept through a class…"

"Shut up."

"…assuming every school year had something similar, they'd have to leave out a bunch of stuff so the book would be…portable," finished Harry.

"Ah," said Hermione. "That makes sense. Like the time Luna Lovegood wanted to put on a pantomime and Flitwick told her that all pantomimes were banned at Hogwarts following the Great Ashwinder Rampage. I couldn't find that in Hogwarts, a History either."

"Well, I guess it's not the end of the world," said Hermione, picking her book back up and flipping it open. "The Board of Governors will meet, they'll change the rules, this will all be over."

Ron gave her a sad look as he watched Hermione snuggle down into her armchair.

"I think you're forgetting who one of the school governors is," he said.

Hermione didn't react at first, then her eyes widened in horror.

"Oh," she said.

"Draco," drawled Lucius Malfoy. "My son, your latest, um... _hobby_ has your mother and me worried."

"It's not dangerous, father," replied Draco from the magic mirror hanging on the wall of the lounge. Draco did, technically, have an owl to send letters, but the massive eagle owl had been more for show than anything else. It had, much like the Malfoys, been bread for beauty, and generations of inbreeding had rendered it unable to find its way across an empty room, let alone deliver post.

"Physical danger, no," admitted Lucius, weighing his words carefully. "However, that bleeding heart, Dumbledore, has asked that we convene a meeting of the Board of Governors to amend the school charter. I don't want this…movement…you've started to escalate. Especially not if it may embarrass the family."

"But father," pleaded Draco. "Toilets are a muggle invention."

"Yes, well," started Lucius, wracking his brain for a counter-argument that did not rely on the logic 'Muggles aren't so bad'. "In the interests of sanitation…" he began.

"With toilets, everyone has to poop in the same place, sitting in the exact same seat," said Draco.

"Well…that's a point," he had never really thought of it like that before. Or rather, tried not to think about it.

"And the sewer just carries it away to sit and fester in a pit somewhere."

"Well, maybe, yes," Lucius grudgingly agreed. He'd definitely tried to avoid thinking about that.

"And the height of the toilet seat forces us to poop in an unnatural position," said Draco. "It causes hemorrhoids and constipation."

"Seriously?" asked Lucius. That would explain a lot…

"As wizards, we aren't bound by the limitations of muggles," said Draco. "While they're helpless and have to rely on convoluted, counterproductive means of waste disposal, wizards can go anywhere and remove the evidence with a simple spell."

"Hm," said Lucius pensively. "You make a good case," he finally admitted. "Greater ease and convenience. No mess. And…" a sadistic smile alighted his features. "I get to piss off Dumbledore."


	3. Zone Defense

**Chapter 3: Zone Defense**

* * *

Harry and Ron came down into the Great Hall for Breakfast to find Hermione, elbows on the table, head in her hands, an unfolded copy of the Daily Prophet in front of her. They approached her slowly from behind and peered around her hair to see the article she had been reading when she gone into standby mode.

"No Toilets for Us," the headline read. "All across Wizarding Britain, more and more wizards are rejecting the muggle toilet in favor of the natural, magical option of squatting and vanishing. These Vanishers, as they self-identify, prefer the ease and convenience of their 'anywhere is a bathroom' philosopy. This trend stared in Hogwarts, pioneered by a few rouge students, and was recently legitimized when the Board of Governors for Hogwarts upheld Article 1 of the School Charter, which prohibits mandating bathroom use."

Ron tentatively put a hand on Hermione's shoulder.

"'Mione?" he asked.

She turned to look at him, her eyes dark and haunted. Ron had to consciously avoid recoiling.

"This isn't happening," she said. She then turned back to the newspaper, grabbed it and punctuated each word with violent shake. "This…is not…happening."

"It's happening!" a distant shout came from the Slytherin table.

"Shut up," Hermione said, disheartened.

"I know it's a little…" started Harry, before he realized he didn't even know what it was. Ever since joining the Wizarding World, he'd just come to accept that normal wasn't a thing any more. "I mean…is it really that bad? Gross, sure, but…"

Hermione launched herself up out of her seat to face him. Despite the fact that she was shorter than him, he suddenly felt rathe short under her burning scowl.

"This castle, this school, where they cherish the tradition of training all magical children regardless of parentage, of bloodline, of predilection for INBREEDING!" she shouted that part over to the Slytherin table. "…is being literally shit on as a way to metaphorically shit on muggles."

"Yeah, um…" admitted Harry, who was backing up. "That's pretty bad…"

"Well, it ends now!" said Hermione. "We push back and defeat these Vanishers!"

A few hours later, Hermione stepped up onto a soap box in front of an assembled crowd. She surveyed them, took a deep breath to brace herself, then raised her megaphone to her lips.

"Students of Hogwarts!" she started. "Yet again, we face a threat from the forces of bigotry and intolerance. They have brought the front lines of the battle for basic human rights to a dark and private place. We must dig deep, find the courage within ourselves to face this disgusting…"

"Why are you on a soap box?" asked Neville.

She lowered the megaphone to stage whisper to him. "It's symbolic." She raised the megaphone back up. "…this disgusting movement that targets and denigrates muggles and muggle-borns. We need to take a stand! Push back against these Vanishers! Tell the wizarding world that defecation belongs in…"

"Where did you even _get_ a soap box?" asked Ginny.

Lowering the megaphone again, "I transfigured a stool," raising it back, "defecation belongs in the privacy of facilities technologically engineered for hygiene and…

"Why not just stand on the stool?" asked Ron.

"Why not a podium?" asked Harry.

"It's symbolic!" she repeated, lowering the megaphone again. "If there are no further questions…"

"Why do you have a megaphone?" asked Luna Lovegood.

Hermione surveyed the crowd in front of her, which was just Luna, Neville, Ron, Harry, and Ginny standing in a row.

"I…I thought there'd be more people," she admitted. "And then there weren't, but I already had the megaphone so…Seriously, Harry, you couldn't have brought more people? You're the biggest celebrity in Britain."

"The biggest," Ginny confirmed, waggling her eyebrows, making Harry blush and Luna giggle.

"I don't want to advertise this early in my career," said Harry. "It dirties the brand."

"Fine!" said Hermione, stepping down off the soap box and putting down the megaphone. She waved her wand and a large chalkboard appeared behind her, covered in text.

"Thank you for attending the first meeting of the _Society for the Human Interchange of Technology_ ," she said, giving up on the rousing speech. "A special interest group dedicated to improving wizard understanding of muggle technology and lobbying for its use in wizard culture."

The group looked at the large title printed at the top of the chalkboard and put the acronym together in their minds.

"All those in favor of Hermione not being allowed to name things anymore?" said Ginny, raising her hand in the air. She was quickly followed by Neville and Harry. Ron was slower to raise his hand. Luna left hers down.

"I like it," she said, a mischievous glint in her eye.

Hermione looked up at the chalkboard to see what the problem was, saw what the problem was, and visibly deflated.

"Fine," she said, "if you can come up with something better…"

" _Foundation for the Legitimate Understanding of Science and Humanity_?" suggested Ron.

Hermione stared at him for a second before, "Ok, yes, that is better," she admitted and, with a flick of her wand, the title changed on the blackboard.

"The aim of our group is to improve the understanding of muggles, muggle society, and muggle technology within the Wizarding Community," she continued. "We pursue this in the interest of pushing back against anti-muggle and anti-muggle-born bias."

"And people shitting in the hallway?" asked Ginny.

"We are also against that, yes," said Hermione, she pointed to the chalkboard where a multi-step plan was laid out. "The first stage is a two-prong assault."

"Assault?" asked Luna in her dreamy voice, casually flicking a butterfly knife open and shut.

"We need to, concurrently, make using a toilet seem cool, while portraying squatting in the hall as shameful," said Hermione, pointing out a diagram she had on the chalkboard.

"I had always assumed those were guaranteed," said Harry. "I'm not sure how we go about promoting that…facts are things…that are real."

"It will require some unconventional thinking, I'll grant you," Hermione conceded. "Fortunately, I've secured permission from Professor McGonagall to advertise our cause by putting posters in the hallways and make modifications to the Hogwarts Bathrooms."

"What kind of modifications?" asked Harry, his voice resonating with the grim terror of someone who has just realized they were roped into a home improvement project.

"We will be gentrifying the Hogwarts Bathrooms," said Hermione. "Bidets, air fresheners, heated seats, the like."

"I'm not sure I can do that…or know what a Bidet is," said Neville, who's Transfiguration skills were, perhaps, unequal to Hermione's vision.

"It's a, sort of sink," said Hermione. "Not for your hands though. And not to worry Neville; you, Luna, and Ginny will be responsible for posters." She indicated a stack of papers sitting on the desk. "If there are no other questions, we can begin. Yes, Ginny?"

Ginny put her hand down.

"Why are we meeting in a bathroom?" she asked, gesturing at her surroundings; which were a row of sinks and some toilets, one of which had a desk pulled up to it.

"These will be _FLUSH_ headquarters," she said.

They all stared at her.

"It's symbolic!" she said.

Draco Malfoy was walking down the dungeon corridor to the Great Hall from the Slytherin common room, when he was distracted by an interruption in the normal pattern of the dank stone walls. He stopped to examine it more closely, and discovered it was an illustration of a bulldog, squatting and…doing its business. This being a magical poster, it was animated. The bold-faced words at the bottom of the poster read 'This is an Animal'.

He scowled at the apparent message and brandished his wand.

" _Incendio_!" he incanted. A jet of fire shot out of his wand. When the flames hit the poster, they twisted and reformed into letters that assembled into words that became a sentence: 'THIS POSTER HERE BY PERMISSION OF THE DEPUTY-HEADMISTRESS'. The flames then vanished, leaving no trace on the poster.

"Granger," Malfoy growled, angry and impressed at the same time. He stalked away, determined to bring this up with Professor Snape later.

A few paces later, he found a similar poster, this one bearing the image of a horse. This one was also resistant to his attempt to set it on fire.

" _Oscurio_!" he tried next. A stream of black paint shot out of his wand and covered the poster. He gave a triumphant smirk, but in mere moments, the paint cracked and fell away in flakes. Likewise, the smirk fell off his face, and he walked on with a snarl.

He passed several more posters on the way to breakfast featuring, a wombat, a bison, and a hyena. Keeping his head down, he was determined to ignore the next one he saw coming up, but looked at it out of the corner of his eye nonetheless, and what he saw stopped him. This one was different from the others. The poster had a fancy, detailed boarder, the artwork was more careful, and featured a wizard in resplendent robes, reading a copy of Transfiguration Today sitting on a very artfully constructed toilet. The caption, in calligraphy, read 'This is a Human'.

His typically pale skin took on a red hue, his eyes narrowed to slits, and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He heard the door open behind him, and turned around to see what it was.

Pansy Parkinson was coming through the door that Malfoy recognized as a Woman's Bathroom. She stopped short when she saw him, and got the look of someone who had their hand in the cookie jar as he glared at her.

"Sorry, Draky," she said, sheepishly. "They put in a bidet."

"What the hell is a bidet?" he asked through gritted teeth.

She explained it and, though he would never admit it, he now really wanted to try one.


	4. Flanking

**Chapter 4: Flanking**

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat at the table of his opulent dining room. His breakfast of blanched orphan sitting untouched before him as he gazed at the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Taking up the top half of page B7, was an advert depicting a selection of animals defecating juxtaposed against a woman posed artfully on a commode. The caption read 'Everybody poops, But people use toilets'.

He would have to call Draco about this later. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time, especially the way Draco described it. Admittedly, it had freed up a lot of time for him. He no longer had to crest the three staircases between his study and the master bath when he felt nature call. Nor had he to wait for his wife to finish with the bathroom, not that anything that breathes air could enter after Narcissa birthed a creamy behemoth.

Still, convincing the entirety of modern society of its benefits was an uphill battle, the failure of which he did not want the want the Malfoy name to be attached.

Setting down his paper, he was greeted by the sight of Lord Voldemort sitting opposite him.

"M…my lord!" he stuttered out. "Greetings! Welcome to our home! Can I offer you some blanched orphan?" he asked, holding the dish up.

"No," said Voldemort, holding his hand up. "Thank you. I'm a strict vegan."

"Oh, um," Lucius thought. "Edamame then?" he offered.

"Oh?" said Voldemort, perking up. "Yes, thank you."

After Lucius summoned the house elf, Voldemort got down to business.

"You, no doubt, wonder what has brought me here, Lucius," said Voldemort.

"I am always honored to have you in my home, my lord," Lucius kowtowed as if his life relied on it, which it did.

"It is regarding your son," Voldemort said.

"Draco?" Lucius asked, his voice going up slightly.

"Yes," said Voldemort. "He has recently started a campaign against muggle inventions, specifically the toilet."

"Yes, my Lord," said Lucius. "Rest assured, I was mere moments away from contacting him and…"

"I like it," said Voldemort.

"…tell him he has my complete support," Lucius finished.

"You see," said Voldemort, "our cause had not really done anything to extend its influence in the current culture."

"How do you mean?" asked Lucius.

"Well, for decades we've stuck to the bread and butter of our industry: excluded muggle-borns, harass blood-traitors, kill muggles. It's a simple business model, easy to maintain and expand, but we need to increase the scope of our outreach."

"So," said Lucius, trying to understand, "by backing this pro-vanishing movement we'd be getting the majority of wizards accustomed to a, sort of, softcore wizard supremacy?"

"Exactly!" said Voldemort standing up. "I'm glad you picked up on it so quickly. It took me ages to explain that to Bellatrix."

Lucius gave an understanding nod. Whatever Bellatrix's strengths might be, subtlety wasn't among them.

"Once they accept the softcore as common place," continued Voldemort, rubbing his hands together, "it will make them more susceptible to our more…intensive aims. You know, rampant discriminations and disenfranchisement."

"I see," said Lucius. "The task may be difficulty, though." He unfolded his newspaper and showed the advert to Voldemort. "They already have a very successful PR campaign."

Voldemort took the paper gingerly and considered it for a moment.

"Lucius," he said finally, "I think it's time you started investing in…publishing."

Hermione came downstairs to the Gryffindor Common Room to the sight of Ron and Harry ready to great her, happy and smiling; a little _too_ happy and smiling.

"Hermione!" Ron greeted, grinning. "Good morning! You look lovely today...I like what you've done with your robes."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Washed them, you mean?"

"Yeah," said Ron. "I never get around to that. You're so much more fastidious than I am."

Now Hermione was really suspicious. It wasn't unusual for Ron to say nice things to her, but not only was he laying it on thick, but he had clearly looked up a new word just to do so. And on top of that, was Harry.

"Yes, very fastidious," he agreed, muttering something under his breath that sounded vaguely like 'whatever that is.'

"Breakfast?" he asked, gesturing to indicate a table he had laid out. "You've been working so hard lately, we thought we'd bring you up something."

She looked on the table he had set up near the window, light spilled onto a spread it must have taken twelve house elves to prepare.

"What's wrong with the Great Hall?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry and Ron answered in synchronous. "Nothing's wrong at all." This was also said in synchronous; it was as unconvincing as it was creepy.

"Right, well," said Hermione, turning towards the portrait hole. "It looks lovely, but I think I'll take breakfast in the Great Hall. I'm almost certain there's something there I should see."

She was stopped by Ron's hands on her upper arms. His touch light, he pulled them together, his chest to her back.

"Hermione," he whispered in her ear, his voice tender. "I promise you, whatever horrible thing is out there, it will still be out there later. Join us for breakfast?"

So it was, with butterflies running buck wild in her stomach, she acquiesced to breakfast with her friends in the Common Room. With Harry and Ron's simple change in venue, in the sum total of her life, she was happier for an hour longer than she would have been otherwise.

Harry and Ron pulled her into a classroom on their way down to first period potions in the dungeon. Breakfast had been nice, but now they were back on Earth, and they needed to fill her in before Malfoy did it for them.

It was by sheer luck that they had found out his latest despicable ploy before Hermione did. Ron had fielded the idea of killing Malfoy and never telling Hermione, to which Harry had wholeheartedly agreed. The problem was that McGonagall had caught them booby trapping the passage to the dungeon and, after forcing them to explain, sent them back up to their house. She hadn't taken away any points, which left it ambiguous as to whether or not she agreed with them in spirit.

In the empty classroom, Harry and Ron stared at Hermione, trying to think of the best way to bring this up.

"Well?" she asked. When they didn't answer, except to shift their weight awkwardly, she continued. "Listen, I know you're trying to protect me, but unless you plan to keep me in here..."

"We could do that!" said Ron, brightly. "Conjure some furniture, bring you your assignments, send up Dobby with food, do the cleaning."

"No, Ron," she answered.

"We could have people over, start a book club."

"No, Ron!"

"Quilting circle?"

"Ron!"

"Here," said Harry, pulling a magazine out of his bag and handing it to her. He then positioned himself closer to the door as she read the title.

" _Vanisher's Monthly_?!" she screeched.

"Lucius Malfoy started funding a periodical," explained Ron, also sidling towards the door.

She thrust open the magazine and rifled through the pages.

"What the…'Most Comfortable Ways to Squat'," she said, reading out the article titles. "'Handwashing Charms that Clean Your Nails'… 'Muggle Toilets and Piles'… 'Sewer Systems and the Cholera Epidemic'… 'INVENTIVE WIPING'?!"

"Oh, look at the time," said Harry, conjuring a watch out of thin air. "Potions is upon us, let's go."

And Harry and Ron ran out of the room.

Snape sat at the front of the Potions classroom, at his desk, reading the periodical that was being distributed among the Death Eaters.

"What the hell is 'Inventive Wiping'?" he asked aloud, before shutting the magazine.

His gaze turned to the stack of identical periodicals on the corner of his desk. He gathered them all up and dumped them in the drawer of his desk. He'd been asked, as a Death Eater, to do some despicable things, but never had he felt this dirty. Voldemort felt that the future of the movement, while still investing heavily in the killing, maiming, and terror industry, was also influencing the popular culture. He had charged Snape, who had access to impressionable young minds, to distribute this written material and promote 'Vanishing'.

He had consulted Dumbledore on this matter, who had supplied the solution to play along before Dumbledore publicly denounced the practice and forbade staff from lobbying for it. This would give the impression that he was following orders while not having to talk to children about where it was 'cool' to defecate.

He massaged his temples, wondering where his life had gone so wrong. When he had first joined the Death Eaters, he had known, going in, that they had perpetrated ghastly crimes of murder, torture, and sedition, but he felt that failing to include that they would mandate how and where he could poop constituted a breach of good faith and full disclosure.

Speaking off, he realized he should fit in his morning movement before class stared; the bran muffin he had for breakfast was on its way out. He checked his watch and cursed himself. Class started in less than 10 minutes, which meant that the Granger girl would be here in 5. He didn't have time to run to the nearest bathroom three corridors away, and that one was heinous at the best of times.

By chance, his gaze fell on one of the desks; the desk that Potter used. A cruel grin spread across his face as he grabbed a magazine.

Harry and Ron arrived to find the Potion's Classroom door locked. They heard, behind them, the angry, stalking footsteps of Hermione. They were hoping that they would make it to class in time for the lesson to start. Hermione would be distracted by the lesson and would cool off by the time class was over.

As she stalked nearer, it seemed that they would not be able to escape her untampered furry. Then the, the classroom door opened.

"Good morning!" said Professor Snape brightly, "come in, come in."

He waved them inside, even gave Harry a friendly clap on the shoulder. The three of them went to their usual seat as the rest of the class filed in.

"Good morning, class," Professor Snape said from the front of the classroom, still smiling with unusual happiness. "Today, we'll be preparing a Calcination Draft, or, as they're commonly known: Pepper-Up Potion."

He waved his wand and instructions appeared on the board.

"I know it's a little complicated," he admitted, "But, fret not, I'll be helping you every step of the way. Begin!"

It was so disconcerting, it was several minutes before Hermione realized what she had been mad about earlier. Even when she did, it seemed that Snape being this pleasant meant that she must be dreaming. Waking or sleeping, she had bile to vent.

"Why would Malfoy's father invest in a magazine about…defecating…and in such detail?" she asked Ron and Harry in a whisper.

"Same reason Malfoy started popping squats in the hallway," said Harry.

"Which is?" Hermione prompted when he didn't expatiate.

"No idea," said Harry, "but Doctors probably have an acronym for it."

"Good work, Neville," cheered Snape. "It's coming along nicely."

They looked behind them in time to see Snape give Neville's hair a tousle.

"I don't get it," said Hermione. "Why is it _this_ important to eschew a muggle invention?"

"God only knows what they'll do to the Hogwarts Express," said Harry with a shudder.

"Probably make us ride in on Dragons," grumbled Hermione. "Seriously though, I don't get why they would do something this…this…deviant."

"I think, in Malfoy's case, it's you," said Ron.

They both started at him, Hermione scowling.

"I mean, they always thought muggles were stupid, weak," said Ron. "But they didn't hate them. They think dogs are stupid, and they like them just fine. But when Malfoy met you, someone who's intelligent, ambitious, self-confident, he was confronted with the reality that muggles could be smarter than he was."

"Huh," said Hermione, impressed by the insight.

"And since, historically, he can't beat you in any exams, he's cloying to the one thing where he thinks he might have a chance at beating you, proving himself right, and proving that wizards are inherently better than muggles."

"Huh," Hermione repeated, more so impressed. The world was upside down today. People were pooping outside bathrooms. Snape was being nice. Ron was being insightful. What was to be next, McGonagall wearing a muumuu?

"That in mind," Ron continued, "The best revenge you can get is to be the most successful student and witch you can be. There's really no need to…"

"We need to push back," declared Hermione.

"Of course, you do," said Ron, hanging his head.

"We need more adverts," she started, "more exposure, a more aggressive narrative, celebrity endorsements."

"What's this?" asked Snape, appearing beside them. They all snapped out of their conversation to face him.

"Ah, Granger," he said, inspecting her potion, "Only you could hold out a conversation and still brew a flawless potion. Good work."

Before he left, he looked at Harry, and smiled contentedly.

"What's he so happy about?" asked Ron as Snape walked away.

"I have the feeling I don't want to know," said Harry.

"This is a PR set back," said Hermione, "but public perception can change in an insant."

She was addressing the members of FLUSH at FLUSH HQ, previously known as the 3rd Corridor Women's Loo. Behind her was her chalkboard, where the contents of _Vanisher's Monthly_ were written out in bullet point.

"These are the major points from the most recent, and hopefully final, publication of _Vanisher's Monthly_ ," she said. "Some of them are practical articles: things like handwashing charms, or charms to leave behind a hint of lavender, but some of them are deliberate misinformation."

"What?" asked Ron.

"Fake News," clarified Hermione.

"Well," said Luna, pointing to the blackboard, "that one isn't fake."

"What?" asked Hermione sharply.

"Toilets _do_ cause hemorrhoids," clarified Luna. "They force you to assume a sitting position, which causes more rectal strain. Toilets in other countries are set lower to the ground and there's fewer incidence of piles."

They stared on, torn between asking her how she knew this and never wanting to know. Hermione wordlessly reached up and erased that point on the blackboard.

"The rest of it is information that we can debunk," she soldiered on. "The two main ones are that sewer systems cultivate disease and that vanishing saves water, and is therefore more ecologically sound."

"Are wizards worried about ecology?" asked Harry, who had never known muggles and wizards to have overlapping interests.

"Oh, yeah," said Ron. "Last thing we want is to have to evacuate earth again."

"Right," said Hermione. "So, we can counter these with…wait, what?" she asked, turning to face Ron. "Again?"

"Yeah," said Ron, smirking. "Don't tell me you slept through _that_ History of Magic lecture?"

She glared at him.

"We can counter these with facts," she continued. "I've prepared a stack of pamphlets…" she gestured to a pile of colorful pamphlets on the desk, "detailing facts on muggle sewer systems, please familiarize yourself with them and hand them out. And a special thank you to Luna for helping with the formatting and artwork."

Luna smiled smugly. "Daddy taught me about typesetting from the _Quibbler_." She bragged. "And also how to use the loo."

"And we're very grateful for both," said Hermione. "My dad toilet trained me as well."

She stopped, unsure why she had shared this, but Neville piled on before she could feel embarrassed.

"My Gran taught me," he said.

"My Aunt Petunia," said Harry. "She was a little cross that I got it before her Dudders."

"Percy," said Ginny and Ron together.

"I think that's all we need to cover for today," said Hermione hurriedly, unsure of the direction the conversation was taking. "Thanks to all of you for your continued support and for using the toilets."

As they all filed out of FLUSH HQ, Harry leaned over to Ron.

"What do you think she'll do when she finds out you…"

"That was one time!" Ron cut him off. "We were in the Divination Tower; the nearest bathroom was three floors down!"


	5. Siege

**Chapter 5: Siege**

* * *

The Hogwarts staff were all gathered around the table in Dumbledore's office. Snape stood at his seat, looking purposefully at the clipboard he was holding and purposefully avoiding eye contact with his colleagues.

"The third-floor corridor off the unused Charms classroom has collapsed into the second-floor corridor due to eroding masonry caused by…urine," he read out grudgingly. "The fifth landing on the North Tower has collapsed into the fourth landing due to eroding masonry caused by…urine. The third lower passage of the dungeon has caved in due to eroding masonry…caused by urine."

This was Snape's new burden. Since the advent of Vanishing has started in his house, the staff unanimously agreed that he should be the one responsible for reading out reports of damage caused by, among other things, urine.

"The unused fifth corridor Potions lab has been flooded…" staff all blanched, "…due to eroding water pipes…" they all relaxed, "…caused by urine."

The staff all groaned.

"How are they peeing so much?" asked Flitwick. "Seriously, why didn't the pipes all explode when they were using the toilets?"

"At the end of every school year," started McGonagall, "the transfiguration department reinforces all the plumbing magically, along with other repairs."

"Oh," said Flitwick, "like how the Charms department goes around and shores up all the enchantments that keep the building standing?"

"Correct," said Dumbledore. "And now, all forms of magic, be they charms, transfiguration, or optimism, are being slowly eaten away by a tide of piss. We need to find an actionable solution."

"What I don't understand," started Professor Sprout, "is how come this doesn't happen to other castles? There are castles all over the world that predate toilets, and none of them are crumbling."

"Muggle architecture is not the same as magical architecture," said Professor Charity Burbage, the Muggle Studies professor. "The building is prefixed by months of planning and calculation by teams of expert masons. Every pillar, every wall, every brick meticulously placed to bear the weight, time, and elements. In the end, the structure is held together by the immutable laws of physics."

The entire staff stared down the table at her, yet again surprised by how complicated not having magic was.

"Huh," said Professor Vector, "and what about magical architecture?"

Burbage shrugged. "A bunch of wizards and witches randomly slapping rooms together and charming them so the ceiling doesn't fall in."

The staff all nodded at this, silently acknowledging that it was their go-to problem solving method.

"So," continued Sprout, "our choices are find a muggle architect and rebuild the castle, or start charming every surface you can piss on to waterproof it?"

No one answered at first. Then, as if by some invisible signal, they all got up from the table, brandished their wands, and headed out of the office.

Harry waved his wand across the corridor wall, casting a permanent sticking charm. He slapped a poster on the wall, uncaring if it was even right side up.

A picture of a squatting wizard looking scandalized as someone came across him in the hallways stared down at him. The caption at the bottom read 'Don't Get Caught'.

He looked down into the satchel hanging off his shoulder and saw it was empty, he had put up every single poster. He trudged down the corridor towards FLUSH HQ.

He reached a fork in the corridor and saw Ron coming toward us from the other passage. He waited for Ron to approach and saw he had a bubblehead charm cast about his head.

"It reeks down there," Ron said as he met up with harry, his voice a muted echo from within the bubble.

"Yeah," agreed Harry, casting the same charm on himself. Immediately, the air he breathed took on the pleasant aroma of not-shit. "More people forgetting to flush."

As long as there had been toilets, occasionally, people had forgotten to flush after finishing. The problem, while disgusting, was fairly low-grade, because the next person to use the facilities could just flush it for you. The problem in the post-vanishing wizard society was that people were not uniformly relieving themselves in the same place, so if they forgot to vanish, there was no guarantee that anyone would ever find their waste to dispose of it. All the secret passages and hideaways within Hogwarts were now host to unfinished business, just sitting there, outgassing stench that now permeated the castle.

"According to Hermione," said Ron, "It's the Vanishing that's the real problem."

"How so?" asked Harry.

"Well, she says that when you vanish something, it doesn't just stop existing," said Ron, "Gamp's First Principle of Elemental Transfiguration says matter can't be created or destroyed; all is only ever transformed."

"So, what _does_ happen to something that's vanished?" asked Harry, already knowing the answer in his heart.

"She says it either gets transported to some alternate dimension," Ron started hopefully, but then his face fell, "but it most likely gets disintegrated into smaller particles and turns into a fine, unseen, mist of poo."

Harry resolved never to take the bubblehead charm off again, and seriously considered going off breathing.

It was then that they reached the door to FLUSH HQ and pushed the door open. They were greeted by the sight of newspaper articles covering what used to be a row of mirrors over the sinks. Harry knew she'd been keeping press clippings about Flushing/Vanishing news, but he hadn't known it had gotten this much publicity. Upon closer inspection, he could see that some of the articles weren't in English, he saw some papers that looked like they might be German, or Spanish, and some in an Alphabet he loosely associated with Russia.

"You see," came Hermione's voice from across the room, "the fad of Vanishing has reached Europe."

Harry turned around to see her. She had been looking more and more haggard recently, FLUSH taking up more and more time she would otherwise spend sleeping. Today, the circles under her eyes were even darker, her eyes more red. He hair was gathered up on her head in a haphazard fashion.

"I should have gotten ahead of this," she said, self-deprechatingly. "I've taken out ad space in countries it hasn't reached yet. America, Canada, Egypt, Mesopotamia…"

"How'd you afford that?" asked Harry, "Or even learn the language?"

"I helped her," said a frail voice from down the row of sinks.

Harry's and Ron's heads swiveled to see a white-blond putting up more articles on the mirrors.

"Malfoy!" said Harry, "What are you doing here!? This whole thing is your fault."

"I know," he said, turning to look at them. He was also wearing a bubblehead charm, his pale skin was ashen, and his eyes bloodshot. He took a few stumbling steps toward Harry and fell onto his knees, he reached forward and grasped onto Harry's robes.

"I never wanted this!" he cried. "I didn't know it would come to this. The smell!" he whispered sharply, as if afraid a cloud of it would find him if he spoke of it. "The smell! It clings to me! I can't escape it! And it's all my fault! What have I done?"

He broke down sobbing and leaned his face into Harry's belly, muffling his cries. Harry, seeing is genuine regret, couldn't muster any hatred for the man, even if he had been the reason he was spending all his free time putting up embarrassing posters and avoiding breathing.

"It's alright," said Harry, patting him on the shoulder.

"So, yeah," said Hermione, "Draco, welcome to FLUSH! Now, we have a lot to get through, so let's get to it."

She snapped her fingers and a blackboard wheeled itself out from one of the stalls and came to stand behind her.

"I've designed a new toilet we'll being mass producing," she said, "And in some cases, distributing instructions on how people can make their own. It has adjustable height, built in bidet, warmed seats, and has the optional scents of lavender, citrus, or cabbage."

"Cabbage?" asked Ron.

"It's surprisingly big in Russia," clarified Hermione. "Now, according to a Gallup Poll, toilets are falling in popularity, so we all need to start using them more often, even if you don't have to go, to make them appear more popular; see if we can get it trending."

Ron stared at her, then turned to look at Harry for help, but saw that he was still occupied with a sobbing Draco.

"Hermione," he started softly, "Love, when was the last time you slept?"

She looked up, casting about for the answer before: "Oh, who remembers?" she asked.

Ron reached forward and put his hands on her arms, partly to comfort her, partly because he was fairly sure she'd need to be restrained.

"Hermione," he started, with all the surety of a man stepping onto thin ice. "Are you sure it's worth all this? You aren't taking good care of yourself anymore. You're running yourself ragged. It's not worth it to drive yourself into the ground just because of a toilet."

"Yes," said Hermione, her eyes narrowing and the muscles under Ron's touch becoming stiff. "It's just a toilet. It's a toilet that's being used as a way to undermine the importance of muggles in a society that has been, in the past, hunky-dory with killing them."

"He's so evil!" Draco wailed.

That got everyone's attention.

"Who's evil, Draco?" asked Harry, using a gentle tone he had never before associated with talking to Malfoy.

"You Know Who's Evil!" said Malfoy. "I started it, but it was his idea to start with that magazine."

"Ugh, I knew it!" said Hermione, wrenching herself out of Ron's grip to start angrily pacing the room.

"But why?" asked Ron. "What's in it for him? And why are you here if You-Know-Who is for it? Wouldn't he…" Ron trailed off, making a slicing motion across his neck.

"Yes," Draco agreed, "He'd kill me if he knew I was here. But I don't care anymore! There's nothing good in life anymore! Nothing that doesn't smell of sewage! I choose Death!"

"There, there, Draco," soothed Harry, resuming calming strokes of the blonde man's head.

"And he's doing this because he's trying to make hate seem like a normal, everyday thing," said Hermione. "If rejecting toilets on the basis that they're muggle technology is the new normal then hating muggles becomes more acceptable. It's not just a toilet anymore, it's a battle front for civil rights! Vanishing is just an extension of their racism, and being able to practice it freely invigorates them.

And they won't be satisfied! They'll keep pushing the envelope! If the Vanishers aren't cowed here and now they're going to move onto something bigger and worser!"

"Things won't get worser," Ron said, trying to calm the increasingly shrill Hermione with an appeal to grammar.

The door to FLUSH HQ burst open.

"It's worser!" Luna cried, running in, brandishing a copy of the Daily Prophet.

She slapped it down on the desk and the five of them gathered around to read it.

"Vanishing Trend Becomes Worser!" the headline read.

"Oh, come on!" said Ron.

"The practice of vanishing has been trending across Britain and Europe," the article started. "What started as a benign, if disgusting, proclivity to poop anywhere excluding a bathroom, has evolved into a highly developed series hate crimes."

"Series?" said Harry, terrified.

"Highly developed?" said Hermione, terrifiedier.

"Vanishers have developed an Ad Hoc poop redistribution network, similar to the Floo System. However, instead of transporting people through fireplaces, the Poo System will take any waste, vanished using a special incantation, and, instead of reducing it to unseen particles…"

"Oh, God. It's true," moaned Harry.

"…will carry the waste through a network of spells to be redeposited in specific locations."

They all looked up from the paper. Harry saw his look of horror reflected in everyone's faces.

"Redeposit them where?" Ron asked, tentatively.

The Prime Minister sat in his office, going over the speech for the commemoration of queen's tower. He was distracted when something brown and viscous suddenly landed on the paper he was reading off of with a splat.

"What the…!" he jumped back out of his chair. The brown mass sat on his otherwise imaculte desk, looking innoncent. Curious, he leaned forward slightly, and that's when the smell hit him.

"What the…" he said blanching, but was interrupted by another mass falling on his desk, then another, then another. He looked up to see where the excrement might have been coming from. He really shouldn't have, as it provided ample opportunity for one to hit him full in the face, and it was taken advantage of fully.

As he tried to scrape excrement out of his eyes, he heard the sound like rain falling, signaling to him though he couldn't see it, that his office was quickly filling.

Outside the door of the Prime Minister's office, his secretaries and various ministers were hudled in the antechamber, looking on in horror at the door, from whence were coming sounds they couldn't identify: yelling, swearing, something squishy, then something that sounded like wood breaking.

Then, the door to the office burst open, the first thing they noticed was the smell, the second thing was the Prime Minister, wading through a tide of crap that was now pouring out of his office. He was streaked and stained and carried in one arm, a portrait that hand hung in his office and he seemed to have, for some reason, taken off a large chunk of wall the portrait was attached to. The gathered ministers also saw, in some impossible way, that the portrait seemed scared.

With great effort, the Prime Minister pulled the door shut, stoppering the sewage flowing out of his office. He then took a handkerchief that his secretary daintily held out for him and whipped his face as best he could. After taking a deep steadying breath, he held the portrait up in front of him.

"If someone doesn't explain what's going on in five minutes, I'm going to be holding a very important press conference."

The Students of FLUSH stood in front of Dumbledore. He sat at his desk, looking as though he was seriously considering leaving this planet. On the far end of the row, Draco continued quietly sobbing, hoping Dumbledore would take him when he left. Harry gently rubbed Draco's back and wondered, as he did every five minutes 'How did this happen?'

"You're all aware of the recent…attack on the Prime Minister of Muggle Britain?" he asked gravely.

They all nodded.

"Naturally this kind of…obvious incident…occurring at the highest levels of muggle government…in plain view of the muggle public eye… constitutes a breach of the International Statute of Secrecy," he said.

"So," said Hermione, sounding hopeful for the first time in weeks, "the ministry is going to crack down on Vanishers."

"I'm afraid we've gone beyond the ministry," said Dumbledore.

Draco's head shot up. He, Ron, Ginny, and Neville all stared at Dumbledore in horror.

"You don't mean…"

"No…"

"Not that…"

"What?" asked Harry.

"This is now a matter for…" Dumbledore paused, giving them time to brace themselves. "…The International Confederation of Wizards!"

A few of them gasped. Ron fainted.

"So…" said Harry, not comprehending. "Are they, like, the Wizard UN?"

"Yes," said Neville. "Assuming the UN is something that wields unquestionable worldwide power over all wizards, that could declare world war on Wizarding Britain."

"No," said Harry, going pale. "It can't do that."

"To say nothing of the Loa," said Ginny in a small voice. "They can control those, too."

"What's a Loa?" asked Harry, knowing full well he'd regret asking.

"As dragons are to people," said Dumbledore, getting up from his desk. "Loa are to dragons. Magical beings of immense power. Which is why I called you here."

"You want us to fight a Loa?" asked Ginny, horrified. Ron, who had been steadily getting back up with Hermione's help, fainted again.

"Or multiple Loa?" asked Luna, her normally dreamy voice sounding vacant.

"No," said Dumbledore. "You, all of you, have been on the front lines of this problem from the very beginning. One of you even started it," he said looking pointedly at Draco.

Draco started sobbing again and curled himself into Harry's side. Harry put his arm around Draco's shoulders and tried to be a reassuring presence.

"I want all of you," Dumbledore continued, "to come with me to the headquarters of the ICW, to plead our case before the International Wizard HectoDodecaBunal…"

"Like a Tribunal," Ginny whispered to Harry, "but with 112 people instead of 3."

Harry nodded in understanding as Dumbledore continued.

"…show them that there is something in us that is good. That we can still benefit from their support in quashing this…this…this bowel movement!"

Hermione stood up tall and proud, or as tall as she was able while supporting the still-woozy Ron.

"I'm with you, sir," she said.


	6. Interdiction

**Chapter 6: Interdiction**

* * *

In Boise, Idaho, there sits a sky scraper. It's the tallest building in the city, but that is never mentioned in the cities official literature. Every year, it passes fire inspection tests, but no marshal can ever recall going inside. Every year, its city taxes are paid, but no auditor can ever remember processing any receipts. Every day, people walk right by it, and no one can remember seeing a door leading inside. And it was outside this very building, in the bitter cold of a midwestern winter where Ron and Harry stood, looking out towards the rest of the city.

"I never guessed this is where the Headquarters of the Wizarding World was," said Harry.

"That's why they picked it," said Ron, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

Harry panned around the city scape. "You know, I've never been to America."

"Me neither," said Ron, looking around. "God, it's a barren, featureless desert."

"I know," said Harry, "No roundabouts, no fountains, the shops don't even have tea."

"Have you seen their cars?" asked Ron, "It's like they just repainted the leftover tanks from World War II."

They heard a 'Whoosh' behind them and turned around to see Draco standing in a door that had appeared behind them.

"They're asking everyone to convene," he said. "Deliberations are over."

Harry and Ron hurried back inside. Behind them, the door slid shut, looking for the outside world like an unremarkable stretch of wall.

As boring as the exterior was, the wizards had pulled out all the stops when they decorated the inside. The hallway Ron and Harry walked down was floored and walled in black marble, the details and accents plated with gold. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the building was, in fact, hurtling through space.

The three of them made their way down various passages to the main courtroom, where they had spent the past few weeks watching various hearings and testimonies. Dumbledore had brought them all here nearly a month ago as key witnesses in the case of the IWHDB v Britain. While Harry and the others had done their best to rehearse in case they were called, the only one that ended up giving any evidence was Hermione. She ended up testifying for nearly 12 hours over the course of three days. She explained to the International Wizard HectoDodecaBunal about the complete history of metropolitan waste management, how functioning sewer systems had prevented the plague for decades, how it had brought relative sanitation to giant sprawling cities, allowing them to reach otherwise impossible sizes.

She went on to explain that the rejection of the muggle toilet was an extremist view, based solely on hate, that was rejected by the majority of British Wizards and Witches. She concluded by pleading with the ICW to help them end the Vanishing movement once and for all.

Then, because a fair and balanced legal system must here both sides, the Vanishers had their day in court.

Their Barrister, Henry DeVere Stackpoole, argued that the sewer system actually spreads plagues by creating a festering environment. He went on to say that muggle sewers are so famously defective that the large amounts of waste being redistributed into muggle dwellings would get lost in the shuffle, though he did admit that porting it into the Prime Minister's office was going too far.

He concluded by saying that the ICW cannot make legislation to quash the Vanishing movement; asserting that the job of the ICW is to protect Witches and Wizards, not to protect Muggles.

Dumbledore rejoined by calling him a 'Callous Walloper'.

To which Stackpoole responded by calling him an 'Obsolete Dingbat'.

It degraded from there, and court adjourned for that afternoon.

The open hearings had closed yesterday and the IWDHB had sequestered to decide on the verdict. Now, everyone was filing into the courtroom to hear their decision.

As Harry, Ron, and Draco approached the courtroom, the hallways became more and more crowded. They moved with the mass of people and soon found themselves passing through a large stone archway and into the courtroom. The courtroom was shaped like a coliseum, with the lights of the galaxy looking down from the enchanted ceiling. As the three boys filed in, they saw a somber looking witch standing in the middle of the floor. They took their seats as the sound of a gong sounded through the chamber, hushing the sounds of all conversation.

"The International Wizard HectoDodecaBunal is now convened," said the witch on the floor, her voice magically carrying so it sounded like she was sitting next to Harry instead of standing several meters away.

"That's Jean Marcotte," whispered Ron to Harry, "Supreme Mugwump of the ICW."

"We have rendered a decision," she continued, "in the matter of the International Confederation of Wizards v The British Ministry of Magic on the charge of violating the International Statute of Secrecy. I would like to preface our resolution by saying I never imagined that this…specific issue would come before this august body. I had hoped, in vain, that people had the minimum level of common sense and basic deceny to keep such a…movement from reaching this level: the highest level."

"It is the official ruling that The British Ministry of Magic did not violate the International Statute of Secrecy…" there was a mixed response in the courtroom, boos from one side, cheers from the other, until the gong silenced everyone again. "…since they did not advocate or abet the creation of the so-called 'Poo Network', and worked quickly, within the best of their ability to solve the problem."

Something about their intonation made Harry feel as though she didn't think 'the best of their ability' was a high bar to straddle.

"Moreover, we have concluded that it is beyond the powers of the International Confederation of Wizards to illegalize the practice of 'Vanishing'."

There were more boos, more cheers, the distant sound of Hermione wailing, and the gong struck again, bringing silence.

"However, it is within our power to dictate terms and proportional punishments. People may defecate without restriction as long as there has been a vigorous, good-faith effort to remain concealed and eliminate the waste. To insure adherence to this standard, harsh punishments will be levied against anyone who is caught, and the onus is on them to conceal themselves effectively. The discovery of any human waste is to be reported as a crime and the perpetrator will be prosecuted after he or she has been located using the _Waddiwasi_ Charm."

The entire conference cringed in unison, except Harry, who leaned over to whisper at Ron.

"What's…?"

"Don't ask."

"It is now prohibited," Marcotte continued, "to spell, enchant, curse, or transfigure feces in any way other than vanishing it, and redirecting the fecal matter anywhere, including and especially muggle premises, is strictly forbidden. A codified copy of this resolution will be delivered to all territories and enacted immediately. This session of the International Wizarding HectoDodecaBunal is adjourned."

The gong sounded again, and amid the renewed buzz of chatter, everyone got up to leave.

"Ok, everyone," said Hermione, back in FLUSH HQ, back in Hogwarts, back in Britain, addressing her FLUSH Team. "The ruling by the IWHDB wasn't the resounding condemnation against Vanishing we hoped for and the crusade against it isn't starting. However, we had a major win that protects muggles and the Vanishers are getting a lot of bad publicity, what with almost starting a Wizarding World War. Now, we can ride this momentum and force them back to the pit from whence they…!"

"No," they all said.

"What?" she asked, flustered. "Why 'No'? We just had a major victory!"

"Exactly!" said Neville. "We won!"

"We can call it a day," said Luna.

"We can call it a lifetime," said Draco.

"It's not over, though!" said Hermione. "There are still people vanishing!"

"There's always going to be somebody being an idiot," said Ron. "We established a legal protocol to punish them if it gets out of hand; that's all we can do."

"But…" Hermione started.

"And really, Hermione," said Ginny, "none of us like seeing you running yourself down to the bone for this. You look like death warmed up."

Hermione ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers got stuck.

"We can't just…"

"I'm not saying we should give up," said Ron. "Maybe just, attack in a different direction."

"Like what?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well," came a voice, as one of the bathroom stalls opened to reveal Fred Weasley.

"We have some thoughts on that," came George's voice as he opened his bathroom door stall.

George held up a little potion phial, giving the red liquid inside a shake.

At Malfoy manner, Lucius and his fellow Death Eaters were sitting around a table, enjoying a lavish dinner of fricasseed kittens. They met weekly to discuss the progress of subjugating muggles and share stories about tormenting muggles, all while enjoying the libations provided by the Malfoy family. This week was more sedate following the ruling by the IWHDB, but they were determined to enjoy themselves.

"I say, Lucius," said Rowle. "Is there any chance you can get the Quidditch scores on the wireless?"

Lucius waved his wand and the radio sitting in the corner came to life. After an initial buzz of static, a woman's voice came over the air. Instead of the Quidditch scores, she seemed to be reading an advert.

"After the Anti-Vanishing ruling, wizards all over Britain are concerned about how the ministry would take any advantage to punish people for simply doing their business," said the woman's voice.

There were grunts of agreement around the table.

"Right now, it's more important than ever for all witches and wizards to protect themselves from persecution as best they can," she continued. "Vanishing removes the waste, but what are we to do if something in your diet can't be vanished, if you're tired and can't manage the spell. Do you face charges or put the fecal matter in your pocket?"

McNair, started choking on a kitten. "That can happen?" he asked, startled, after he had dislodged the bone.

"Your droppings can sometimes refuse to be vanished for any number of reasons: something you ate, the weather that day, or security charms that conflict with vanishing spells."

"Cor Blimey!" said Avery.

"Protect yourself from these mishaps by making U-No-Pu part of your diet!" the voice declared. "Our patented potion is a dietary supplement that insures the vanishability of any waste. Whether you're pinching off raisins or birthing a creamy behemoth from your cavernous bowls, U-No-Pu makes sure the evidence is wiped away with the flick of a wand."

At the same time as the weekly gathering in Malfoy Manor, the FLUSH TEAM was at HQ. Hermione stood in a corner, reading off a script and talking into a microphone.

"…U-No-Pu makes sure the evidence is wiped away with the flick of a wand," she read off. She covered the microphone with her hand and whispered sharply to Fred. "This is never going to work!"

Fred waved a stack of papers at her. "We've already got fifty orders! Keep reading!" He then hurried back to where the others were pouring potion into vials and boxing them up. Ginny and Harry were tying the parcels onto the legs of owls.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. She uncovered her microphone and continued.

"U-No-Pu is the once a day supplement that eases digestion, guarantees vanishability, and leaves behind refreshing scent in your choice of lavender, pineapple, or cabbage."

"I didn't know there were times when you couldn't vanish poop," Ron admitted to George.

"There isn't," George whispered as the added some ingredients to the simmering cauldron. "We just tell them it could happen and they buy the stuff to make sure it doesn't."

Fred walked over. "Got another twenty orders," he said, holding up another stack of papers.

"That's brilliant," said Ron. "Diabolical, but brilliant."

"It's not a complete con," said George. "It does keep their shit from stinking, that part's just good for everyone.

"If you have a young one," Hermione continued reading, "who can't vanish yet, please take advantage of our selection of collapsible chamber pots. These chamber pots shrink to the size of a thimble, expand to accommodate any posterior, and vanish any contents automatically. U-No-Pu: Our business it to make sure your business never happened."

She waited a few seconds and then switched off the microphone.

"Brilliant, Hermione," said Fred, who was now carrying even more order forms. "They're selling like hotcakes."

"If you ever tell anyone that that was my voice…" she said in a warning tone.

"So," said Ron, trying to sound casual, "What are we going to do with the money?"

"Whatever we make beyond covering the cost goes to Muggle Protection Groups," said Hermione, and Ron visibly deflated. "I'm also converting some of it to muggle money and donating it to non-profits that insure clean water and sanitation in developing countries. Organizations like ' _Water is Basic'_ and ' _UNICEF_ '."

Ron grumbled something and kept pouring. Hermione walked over to him and pecked him on the cheek.

"Thank you for volunteering, Ron," she said, and his grumbling ceased.

Harry took two of the owls he had just loaded up and walked over to the window. He opened the pain and, one after the other, they took flight. Harry looked after them, and kept staring long after they had flown away.

"Bee in your bonnet?" asked Ginny, coming to stand next to him.

"Thinking about Voldemort," he answered.

Ginny flinched at the name. "Why?" she asked.

Harry took a deep breath and started. "I always figured I'd beat him, or he'd beat me."

"Yeah," said Ginny.

"But that's how we've been thinking about the Vanishers; either we'd win or they win," said Harry. "Now, neither of us won. It's just this, kind of, strange coexistence. What if that's how it's going to be with Voldemort? And others like him? No one actually wins, and the weirdness and hate just becomes a normal part of the landscape that we have to work around?"

Ginny didn't answer. She didn't know the answer. All she could do was put an arm around Harry and stand there with him until he felt up to going back in with the group.

It was later that week, in a city park in Chicago, where a young girl was hanging on for dear life.

"Stoooooop!" she cried, as the merry-go-round spun faster and faster. She clung to the bars, afraid it would fling her off.

From the top of the monkey bars a gang of wizards were laughing at her plight. One of them lazily traced circles in the air with his wand.

Their revelry was interrupted by a blast, like cannon-fire and they were all sent hurtling through the air. A man ran onto the playground, brandishing a wand.

" _Immobulus_!" he incanted, and the merry-go-round stopped dead, the young girl hovered in mid-air.

He reached her and scooped her into his arms. Once he walked a safe distance away, he put the girl down. She was able to stand, but still crying.

"They…they were… and I," she choked out between sobs.

" _Obliviate_!" he incanted, and the girls face became vacant.

"Ok, then," he said, before casting a cheering charm. A smile came to the girls face and she appeared to get her bearings.

"What happened?" she asked.

"You were playing on the merry-go-round," he said. "When you found," he pulled something out of his pocket, "a bunny!"

"Yay!" he cried, and grabbed the stuffed rabbit in a hug.

"Hey!" cried someone behind them. They both looked over to see a woman holding several wands in one hand and a gang of men tied up behind her in a haphazard, painful fashion.

"Are you done with your playdate?" she asked.

The man turned back to the little girl.

"You go home to mom, Ok?" he asked.

"Ok, mister," she said, running off.

He got up and walked over to the woman and her pile of delinquents. One of them looked up at them.

"You aren't Aurors!" he cried.

"No," the woman said, "we were just out for a walk, thought we'd beat your asses."

She waved her wand and ball-gags appeared in all their mouths. They groaned helplessly into the restraints.

"Ok," she said. "We can Apparate them all together."

"Cool," he said. "Um, give me a second?" he asked before walking off.

She watched him walk behind a nearby bush. After a few seconds, he emerged again, buttoning up his pants.

"Do you have any sanitizer?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes and pulled a bottle out of her pocket.

"You carry a stuffed rabbit with you, but no hand sanitizer?" she asked pouring some out on to his outstretched palm.

"I knew you had the sanitizer," he said, rubbing his hands together. "And we ended up using the bunny."

They continued lightly bickering as they made sure the gang was all tied together before they disapparated the lot of them to the local precinct.

 **The End**


End file.
